


a kind of bourbon domesticity

by whisperlings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Drinking, Established Relationship, M/M, Mistletoe, Post-Closing Hell's Gates, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:05:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperlings/pseuds/whisperlings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel knew Christmas. Or, at least, he thought he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a kind of bourbon domesticity

Castiel knew Christmas. Or, at least, he thought he did. He knew that it was how the world (those of the Christian faith, specifically) marked Jesus’ birthday. And it was an annual gift-giving time for those plus other humans. It was not the Son of God’s date of birth, though. That – _that_ was nearer to the Earth’s north hemispherical summer than its winter. But that didn’t matter, or at least it seemed that God didn’t mind when his son’s birthday was observed. Just that it – _was_.

Turning an ancient pagan celebration into a monotheistic one was probably just the icing on top of the cake, if Castiel could be so blasphemous. Which, as he was drinking Kentucky bourbon in the foothills of the very state mentioned, while laying in bed (still clothed, however), with the likes of Dean Winchester – who had had a massive helping hand in diverting the apocalypse several years ago – well, he was so then blasphemous and absent God help him.

Sam was off pool hustling on his own, something he’d taken to hobby over the years; and Castiel could only assume he also wanted to get away from him and Dean. Not that they had a tempestuous relationship – Sam was Castiel’s friend and always would be, but, well, sometimes Sam had other interests because he was his own person. Cas could picture him now, picking up round after round until the slacks caught on and he’d have to leave. That didn’t happen that often, though, because of years upon years of practice and deceit and –

“Dean, what if Sam’s out buying Christmas presents instead of…?”  

But Dean waved him off and took another swig of his bourbon, making somewhat of a face as he took it. Cas smiled and drank steadily but slowly from his own bottle, savoring the taste instead of trying to make a show about it like it looked as if Dean was doing. 

“Nah, Cas, I know my brother well enough,” Dean said, “Anyway, it’ll be easy as pie to read the expression on his face. He can’t hide much from me now.” The hunter smiled and easily reached around Castiel’s back, wrapping his arm about the angel’s shoulders. Castiel was still surprised by it – though not as much as he used to be even two years ago. 

Two years ago, they were still working on closing the gates of Hell forever. And now, well, now life was _here_ and life was easier and the name Crowley hardly registered in Castiel’s mind any more. The Winchesters still dealt with the regular monsters, the ones that came from their alphas and when dead went to Purgatory, but that was, well – that was enough, wasn’t it? Perhaps a bit _boring_ to some, but Castiel knew even better than the Winchester did themselves that they could _use_ some so-called boring. Especially after all they’d been through in their still short lifespan.

And Castiel was glad to be here with them after it all.

*

Castiel didn’t necessarily _get_ drunk. At least not exactly like humans did, not so easily. But now? Yes, now – now he was. It was nearing Midnight, nearing Christmas Day in eastern Kentucky after a hunt that had led them here, and he, Sam, and Dean were watching National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. The Winchesters were quoting the film during advertisements on the motel’s television, and Castiel was gathering it all up in his own mind, laughing softly and hiccupping every few minutes from all that he’d had, food and drink and then –

Then he felt Dean’s lips graze against his own, and how Cas hadn’t even noticed it… even he wasn’t sure. But he accepted it, like the very first time, the who knew anymore how many nights before Hell’s gate had been closed. It was a “this might be goodbye” gesture then, something neither of them trusted, but had given and taken and it was theirs alone. And it had grown, and now… now Castiel didn’t reach so desperately, so achingly, but it was all there just the same. The love and tenderness mixed with the rough overtones and Dean’s calloused, worn hand around the back of his head. And Sam… well, Sam had skipped off to the shower. Sam was, of course, used to it by now, but he and Dean were still brothers and that meant not too much while he was around. Castiel could oblige to that even though Dean still sometimes liked to tease his brother and catch him out and brag about his literal angel.

Castiel was more than okay with that, too, as somewhere between Dean kissing him and him doing the same, he fell asleep through the first several hours of Christmas Day. He didn’t mind, though.

*

He wasn’t sure what to get Dean besides the world, so he got him a mistletoe and a pack of his favorite beer (freshly packaged) and a warm, right out of the oven, apple pie. Dean ate almost all of it by himself, which was more than fine. Well, except that Sam wanted some, too, so Cas ended up going out again and finding fresh pie. But he was an angel, and he could get it in near the blink of an eye… so, it all ended up all right. He even ate some of it himself, and Dean had to wipe some of the crumbs off his face (with his thumb of course, and then into his own mouth).

“Something about this is… so _domestic,_ ” Dean said.

Sam picked up their empty lunch and dessert paper plates and threw them in the room’s trashcan, “Well… not many people have an angel sitting with them on Christmas Day. Nor bloodied bandages in the trash as well… I thought you were taking this out last night, Dean?” He raised an eyebrow and gestured at the small pile of aforementioned bloodied bandages, to which Dean shrugged and said he fell asleep before he could get to it. 

Castiel took it out to the dumpster for them. Wasn’t hard. 

* 

Sometimes he questioned why he continued to stay with the Winchesters, and in some sense, become a hunter like them. Perhaps it was just what he had done to Heaven, and in turn, what Heaven had done to him. He didn’t call it running away, though. He called it, in some sense, growing up and leaving that nest. He, however unlike human children, had no plans in the foreseeable future to go back to that home.

He talked about it with Dean to some lengths, though it always ended up with a game of cards, hustling pool, or even just going for a drive with Dean’s favorite music jacked up on the volume. Then, sometimes they would go further. Each time more and more until the line to further became blurred with what just was. And the thing was, they were all right with it, and knew their line of decency (usually) around Sam. Though Sam easily let them know when he was, as he put it, “grossing me the fuck out, guys.” Usually with exclamation marks added and fake puking sounds. Dean facetiously called his brother’s reaction “adorable, Sammy, just adorable.”

Of course there were still a handful of angels that Castiel could almost trust, as they had appeared stoically by his side in the past couple of years and hadn’t betrayed him. He was almost at the point where he felt he could completely trust them, and perhaps then... then he would feel at ease with his natural family as well as his... whatever this was with Dean and Sam. His mismatched, two species family that fit together just right with all their frayed edges and marks.

* 

Dean didn’t even have to stand on his tiptoes to put the star on top of the tree, even though Sam had to straighten it for him. 

“It’s awesome, isn’t it, Cas?” he said, and Cas nodded as he looked down at his rather ugly sweater that Dean had shoved off on him (well, supposedly so - Castiel saw it as more of a gift that Dean didn't want to own up to). But it wasn’t so ugly right now, in some sense - nor, if he had to admit it, was it displeasing at all with its snowmen and reindeers. The alternating flashing colors of the Christmas tree lit on his sweater and captivated him, and everything was just about perfect with more bourbon, another great meal just having passed through their mouths and swallowed, and oh. There was the mistletoe, too.

Hanging, oh, _hmm_. Castiel _was_ an angel, and Dean didn’t even notice it had moved without any physical hand guiding it. He only looked up when Cas gestured to it, and, well, the ensuing kiss wasn’t so bad. 

Not bad at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, etc etc! :)


End file.
